Twin Sized Mattress
by alexis0392
Summary: POST 3X12. It's been a week since Ian left for the Army, and Mickey is a wreck. The song that comes up on his iPod doesn't help matters. As the song plays, Mickey is bombarded by memories of Ian while he listens to the lyrics.
1. Wiry Broke Down Frames of My Friends

_A/N:_ Hey y'all. This is going to be my first Mickey and Ian fic, and this story has been swimming around in my head ever since I listened to this song this summer. Each chapter is going to be a verse or line from the song that draws a memory of Ian from Mickey's brain. Some chapters are going to be scenes from the show, but in Mickey's POV, while others are going to be little drabbles of scenes we never got see.

**The song is Twin Sized Mattress by The Front Bottoms.**

Here's a link to the song, as well as the lyrics: watch?v=c WJUk65EnQM  
(take out the spaces )

I hope you enjoy the ride! ~A.C.E.

*M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I~*~M&I*

Chapter 1: Wiry Broke Down Frames of my Friends' Bodies

It had only been one week.

One week since he'd heard that voice that made his insides warm. One week since he'd last seen that grin spread across a freckle ridden face. One week since the one steady structure he had left in his life left on a fucking bus for the fucking Army, and one god damn week since Mickey Milkovich felt like he was standing on slightly stable ground.

Mickey felt like an empty shell; hollow and fragile. He hadn't left his room for anything, except eating and pissing. His room was masked in darkness, and the smell of smoke, stale beer and body odor hung in the air, the stench thick with every inhale. Mickey didn't notice; he couldn't notice. He was numb, and yet, he was more emotional than he ever thought possible. All his thoughts surrounded around that redheaded son of a bitch that left him in this hell. He didn't speak to anyone, not even offering the occasional grunt when his sister checked in on him. He was just silent, letting his demons eat away at him from the inside.

After a week of mental torture, Mickey couldn't take the silence any longer. He searched for the iPod he had stolen from some rich kid's pocket, placed the headphones over his ears, and pressed shuffle. The familiar sound of an acoustic guitar and drums filled his ears, and Mickey froze. He knew this song. He knew this song well. Mickey felt the prickling along his eyes, but forced the tears back as he let the song play.

_This is for the lions living in the wiry broke down frames of my friends bodies._

_When the flood water comes, it ain't gonna be clear. It's gonna look like mud._

_But I will help you swim. I will help you swim. I'm gonna help you swim_.

A tear slipped down Mickey's cheek as he whispered into the darkness, "Wish you were here now, Firecrotch, 'cause it feels like I'm fucking drowning."


	2. For the Sleepless Nights

Summary: Mickey finds Mandy sitting alone at the kitchen table, and she tells him about Ian, and how somebody beat the shit out of him. Takes place the morning after the beatdown in episode 3X09.

Chapter 2: For the Sleepless Nights

_This is for the snakes and the people they bite;_

_For the friends I've made;_

_For the sleepless nights;_

Mickey let the front door slam behind him as he made his way inside his house. He averted his gaze from the couch that held too many painful memories, and spotted Mandy staring off into space in their kitchen. Mickey walked over to the fridge and grabbed himself a beer, noticing the way his sister jumped at the sudden noise that filled the small room.

"You remember to check behind the grille for hair?" He asked, taking a seat in the empty chair beside Mandy, while cracking open the beer with his recently bruised knuckles.

Mandy nodded her head silently, still staring off into space.

"Good," he replied, before letting the silence overwhelm them. Mickey sat in the worn chair, slowly sipping his beer, and remembering how he received the slight pain in his knuckles the day before. The look of pain swimming in green depths, the crunch of bone under his fingers, and the color of blood dripping down a freckled face that matched ginger locks. The scene played on repeat in his mind, and as Mickey took another swig from his beer, he couldn't help but wish he was drinking something stronger to help him forget the memories of the previous afternoon.

"I might need your help later today," Mandy said after a while, looking into Mickey's eyes.

"Thought you just ran over some chick with a fuckin' car. The fuck else you gotta take care of?" Mickey asked, finishing off his beer, and belching loudly.

Mandy looked down at the table, and laughed quietly for a moment, before meeting Mickey's gaze once again, her own eyes filled with pain and anger. "Some fucker beat the shit out of Ian yesterday, and when I find out who, they're fucking dead," she spoke, with such cold, hard determination, that Mickey felt a chill run up his spine.

Mickey tried to calm his features while his insides screamed with remorse and guilt. He reached a slightly shaking hand into his pocket to pull out his cigarettes and lighter. He ran through the information his sister just told him as he brought a cigarette to his lips, lit the end, and exhaled somewhat steadily through his nose. _Fuck_ he thought, fighting back the familiar sting around his eyes.

Mickey took another drag and blew out the smoke through his mouth this time. "You know what happened," he asked, passing the stick to Mandy as he tried to compose himself.

"Not enough," Mandy said, sucking the smoke into her lungs greedily. "I got a text from Lip this morning telling me to come over right away," she laughed sarcastically, ashing the cigarette on the floor, "Thought he found out about-," she shook her head, taking another deep inhale before continuing. "I got there, and he told me he spent the whole night listening to Ian crying in his bed, holding a bag of peas to his face. I guess Lip tried to talk to him, but Ian wouldn't say anything, and he thought I might be able to help," Mandy shook her head again as she passed the cigarette back to Mickey. She was silent for a few seconds before she continued talking, "I've never seen him like that, Mick. His face was all bruised, and it looked like he was missing a fucking tooth. But it wasn't just that. He looked so," Mandy stopped to think of a word to describe the look on her best friend's face, "broken."

Mickey's insides clenched at the last word. _FUCK_. He remained silent as he let the smoke fill his lungs, and burn his throat, the nicotine doing nothing to settle his nerves. He needed to forget. He couldn't remember. It was all too much for the Southside thug to handle; the wounds were too fresh. Mickey stood up from the table after finishing the rest of the cigarette, now in desperate search of alcohol to stem the flow of memories rising to the surface. "Yeah," he finally replied, "I'll help."


	3. Signs I've Completely Ignored

Summary: Mickey thinks back to the earlier moments when he should have realized he was fucked because of Gallagher. Takes place somewhere in season 2, because there sure as hell weren't enough goddamn Mickey and Ian scenes.

Chapter 3: Signs I've completely ignored

_For the warning signs I've completely ignored._

There's an amount to take, reasons to take more.

It was one of the rarest sights to find in the Gallagher household; when it was completely empty and silent. No brothers and sisters running around, no screaming and bickering, or laughing and joking between siblings; just the sounds of Chicago's Southside making its way into the home through the admittedly thin walls. Which is why Mickey Milkovich found himself lying side-by-side with his, secretly, favorite Gallagher, passing their second joint of the hour back and forth between them. They had fucked twice already, once with Mickey bent over the armrest of the family couch as Ian forcefully plowed him from behind, followed by an equally intense session against Ian's bedroom door, which finished on his desk. They were both naked and sweaty, enjoying the afterglow as their minds fogged from the high.

"Hey, Mick," Ian asked quietly from besides him, passing the joint to Mickey, who accepted it with his _FUCK_ hand.

"Yeeeeah, Firecrotch," Mickey replied, pulling hard on the joint, and closing his eyes as he felt the effects almost instantly.

"How'd you know I was gay?" He asked, looking over at Mickey with half closed, bloodshot eyes, and faint smile playing on his otherwise curious face.

"The fuck are you talking about? Pretty sure the dick up my ass when we fuck is a dead fuckin' give-away," he said, rolling his eyes as he took another hit before passing it back to Ian.

"Shut the fuck up," Ian laughed next to him, bringing the joint to his lips, and smirking when he felt Mickey's eyes locked on his mouth, "I'm being serious. When we first fucked, it just sorta, happened. I mean, I could feel you get hard," he smirked that smirk that drove Mickey wild, remembering their first time, "but how the hell did you know?" he looked at Mickey quizzically once again as he handed the joint back to the thug.

Mickey accepted it as he tried to think clearly through the high he was experiencing. He laughed before he sucked in the smoke, and held it for a few seconds before he answered the boy that was slowly becoming much more than a convenient fuck. The boy he was slowly realizing caused him to be increasingly fucked, and not in a good way.

"It was the day you told Mandy," He smiled, staring off straight ahead as he remembered the morning in question. "I'm not usually known for being up early in the morning, but some punk had been avoiding me the day before," he smirked over at Ian, who rolled his eyes in reply, "So I was up to give him a friendly welcome at the shithole he worked in," Ian laughed and shoved his arm, grabbing the joint as Mickey laughed next to him. "Anyway," Mickey continued, trying to find his train of thought once again, fighting the short term memory as best he could, "Mandy was going out to get eggs for breakfast, and when I saw we were almost outta beer, I went to go tell her. I heard her scream at you, and tell you to get away. I fuckin' hightailed it to the door, and was almost to the side of the house when I heard you tell her. Not fuckin' smart, by the way, yellin' that shit out in the open. The hell were you thinking," he glared at Ian, realizing the situation could have been much more severe, had it been anyone else to have overheard the redhead's confession.

"Aw, Mick," Ian smiled his dorky, lopsided grin that made Mickey's insides flutter, "I didn't realize you cared."

"Fuck off, Gallagher," Mickey said, nudging Ian with his shoulder, but lacking the venom in both his words and actions. He received a playful nudge in return, and couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face as he looked away from Ian. He tamed the stupid smile that had fought it's way onto his face, and chanced a glance at the boy next to him, blue eyes meeting green under thick lashes. The softness of the gaze that met his had Mickey's heart flutter in response. He was fucked.

He should have known it was coming, though. There were warning signs everywhere before he was lucky enough to have Gallagher inside of him on his cramped twin sized mattress. He could have prevented these feelings from ever happening if he had just paid fucking attention to the sirens that went off whenever he had been around the boy that now laid beside him.

The first time was when he found out Gallagher was gay. That's what started the downfall, all the possibilities and scenarios that played in Mickey's mind every time he saw a flash of red hair in a crowd. That's when Ian had first started getting under his skin, seeping into his system like a fucking disease that refused to disappear.

The second time he should have known he was completely fucked was when he practically fucking INVITED Gallagher's dick into his ass the day he threw the chip dip at Kash N' Grab's door. _You know where I live if you've got a problem_. The fuck was wrong with him? Taunting his mind with more scenarios of rough fucks on his bed. He was a fucking idiot.

But it had finally happened. He had finally gotten his wish, and that's when he should have known, and, if he was true to himself, did know he was completely fucked when it came to Ian Gallagher. Holding that tire iron above his head, and staring down into those wide green eyes and freckled face, Mickey was a goner who couldn't take his clothes off fast enough. It was the first time Mickey was fucked by Ian both literally and figuratively.

Would he have stopped it if he had realized the warning signs soon enough, he wondered. He chanced another stolen glance at the gorgeous redhead by his side, and realized that, no, he wouldn't change it for the world.

Notes:

A/N: So, I had to do an Ian-asking-Mickey-how-he-knew-he-was-gay fic , even though I know it's been done many times before. I just never felt the authors realized something that was so clear to me when I was rewatching season 1. Mickey tells Kash that he's going to be meeting them bright and early at the Kash and grab, and Ian tells Mandy before work that he's gay. It just made sense to me that the most organic way Mickey found out Ian was gay was that he overheard Ian tell her, and that was most likely why he was so quick to back off Ian when Mandy told him to.

COMMENT AND KUDOS POR FAVOR (lemme know if I'm in character and whatnot, because this is my first Mickey and Ian fix, and I wanna know if I need to do any tweaking/I'm a greedy comment whore)


	4. Prayed You Would Change

A/N: takes place mid season 2 :)

Chapter 4: Prayed You Would Change

_It's no big surprise you turned out this way._

_When they closed their eyes and prayed you would change._

_And they cut your hair and sent you away._

Mickey was startled awake from his nap by the sound of a folder hitting his mattress close to his head, and a backpack being dropped on the floor. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and glared at the intruder who interrupted his REM cycle.

"The fuck, Gallagher," Mickey groaned as he turned back over and closed his eyes once again, trying to drift back off into unconsciousness.

"Move over," Ian said as he climbed onto the cramped bed, pulling out a cigarette once he was settled. Mickey grabbed it from Ian's lips where the redhead had lit it, and stuck it between his own, smirking at the other boy while he inhaled. Ian rolled his eyes, before continuing to speak. "They hate me," he mubled, looking down at the folder that was laying between them.

"Who, and what the fuck for?" Mickey asked before passing the cig back to the boy beside him.

"Lip and Fiona, mostly, but I can tell Debbie and Carl do, too," he said quietly, keeping his head down as he took a slow drag from the cigarette.

"Still doesn't explain the 'why' part of my question, firecrotch," Mickey said, reaching back for the smoke and taking a puff.

"West Point," was all the redhead gave for a reply, his eyes moving back to the folder sitting innocently between the two boys.

Mickey followed his gaze, and rolled his when he saw the West Point folder. "They don't fuckin' hate you, man. Just don't want you gettin' blown to bits in some fuckin' towelhead infested 'Stan, is all." He looked back at Gallagher, waiting for the boy to raise his ginger head, and meet his eyes.

When he finally did, Mickey could clearly read the pain written in the younger boy's expression. "It's my dream to be an officer; to serve my country. Why can't they understand that? I've worked so hard at ROTC, you'd think they would understand where that was going to lead," he shook his head in frustration, and then continued, "I know they don't hate me," he said quietly, "but I also know they wish I wanted to get out of southside some other way. They'd probably pray for me to change my mind if we did shit like that." He took another inhale off the cigarette that Mickey offered him.

And, fuck, if Mickey didn't pray silently for that very thing. He knew it was firecrotch's dream to serve his country, but was it so horrible that Mickey didn't want the guy, who he was starting to realize he was growing attached to, to die in a fucking desert overseas? Mickey sure as fuck didn't think so. _Haircuts pretty hot though_ Mickey thought to himself as he watched Ian blow smoke from the last of the cigarette out of his mouth. Mickey smiled at him when their eyes met, enjoying the twinkle in the green orbs staring back at him. No, he thought, it wasn't bad at all.


End file.
